Arthur Strikes Again
by Sparkling Slayer
Summary: A short piece based on Arthur's determination to have a cup of tea.......please please READ AND REVIEW, peeps!! :o) Enjoy.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places in this piece of fiction. I do not have any commercial interest in this and use the great Douglas Adams' creation of The Guide with grateful thanks, and hope that others might enjoy this small piece of fan-fiction.

As usual, any and all feedback is much appreciated. If you take the time to read, why not take the time to review?

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

ARTHUR'S ENCOUNTER

Arthur glanced round the pristine, sparkling white bridge of the Heart of Gold. As starship bridges went, he supposed, it was pretty nice even though it was an odd shape. Not, he added to himself, that he'd know, since all he'd managed to see of the Universe since the Earth had been destroyed was a Vogon cruiser and _that_ experience he'd prefer to forget. He shuddered slightly.

The bridge was, at that moment, almost, but not quite, completely empty. Arthur was in it for a start, taking up space; Ford Prefect lounged in a deeply cushioned pilot's chair, humming inanely as he stared down at a small object in his hand, which beeped mildly every now and again. Ford scowled and rapidly pressed some buttons; his reward was another mournful beep. And then – then there was Marvin, who lay pathetically in a dull silver heap in a far corner, waves of depression rippling off him and vying for space with Arthur's boredom.

As for the rest of the "crew" (Arthur snorted to himself; in his opinion the word "crew" hardly fitted for a starship which ran itself) Zaphod had stomped off to his cabin an hour previously claiming he had a headache, though one head was insisting it felt fine and he was making it all up. Trillian was wandering round somewhere, looking for one of her white mice which had, yet again, managed to slip away from its cage.

Eddie, the Heart of Gold's computer, had worked out a good probability that she'd find it – though he hadn't managed to tell her where, or how long it would take. Arthur rolled his eyes and wondered if the mice had invented a miniature lock-picking kit or if Trillian was simply hopeless and kept forgetting to fasten the door of their cage properly. So far, he thought, the mice made "The Great Escape" look like a bunch of amateurs.

Arthur made a face and sighed loudly, hoping to get Ford's attention. He wandered round the bridge for a while, examining the sinuous, eye-twisting white curves of the walls and the lush pot plants that broke up the gleaming arctic expanse, and stared listlessly at the consoles with their tempting buttons and sparkling, glittering lights. He'd been told not to touch anything – Zaphod had been very, _very_ clear on that point - but his hands still twitched, itching to flick switches and turn dials. He shoved his hands deep into the ragged pockets of his slightly threadbare dressing gown.

"I'd like a cup of tea," he said vaguely to the air. Ford looked up from the Guide, which he was still studying intently, smiled encouragingly and nodded.

"Yes, it's fine, thanks," he said.

Arthur frowned, mystified. "What?"

Ford blinked. "Whatever it is, I expect it's fine," he said again. "Thanks." He returned to staring down at the Guide while Arthur stared at him. After a few moments of feeling Arthur's gaze boring through the top of his head, Ford looked up again, squinting.

"What?" he snapped.

Arthur tilted his head. "Are you feeling quite alright?" he asked.

Ford blinked again. "Yes, yes, fine. It's fine. I'm fine," he repeated slowly. "It's fine, I'm fine, we're all fine. I expect." He beamed expansively, wondering when Arthur would leave him alone, and returned to the Guide.

A doleful voice from the corner said, "I'm not fine. But then nobody ever asks me, anyway." A pathetic creak followed this sad little speech. "Ooooooooh. My diodes…..."

"Shut _up_," Arthur and Ford said in unison.

Arthur shook his head and carried on. "I only ask because I thought you might not been feeling quite alright, you know. What are you talking about? What's fine? I was thinking about having a cup of tea….. You weren't really listening to me, were you?" he added accusingly.

"Well…..no," Ford said, not bothering to look up this time.

"Fine!" said Arthur, mildly offended. What if he'd had something really profound and important to say, and Ford had missed it? Typical. "Well!" he added for good measure, feeling even more offended, and turned to stomp off and find the drinks machine, which he was sure wasn't _always_ in the same place.1 His hasty exit, however, was somewhat spoiled by the bridge door.

"It is my _pleasure_ to open for you," it salivated, almost gibbering with happiness as he approached it. "I am _soooooo_ glad to be of service. Please use other doors so they might assist you too. Thaaaaank you!"

"Oh, SHUT UP!" Arthur shouted at it, then felt immediately guilty, as though he'd smacked a small child. He could have sworn he heard a muffled sob.

Waves of reproach foamed out from the door as it glided open with a _Sssssshhhhhhhhhh_ of air and then as Arthur stepped through, closed spitefully and sharply on his dressing gown.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Hi there! What beverage may I provide for you?" The Vend-o-Matic enquired politely, girding itself. It had had several encounters with Arthur already. It wasn't sure it could cope with yet another. Its predecessor, the Nutri-Matic, had had a total breakdown after the tea incident and been removed, sobbing, and now resided in one of the ships' storerooms.

Arthur frowned, tugged on his dressing gown cord to tighten it, and glared suspiciously at the machine in front of him. He tapped his foot, blinking nervously. The machine stared back grimly, polished silver front unmoving, a row of green lights flashing serenely. It waited. It could certainly outwait Arthur Dent. It hoped he would give up and go away – but no.

Arthur had finally cleared his throat. "Tea," he said firmly. "Tea is what I want. Can you do tea today?"

The machine burbled to itself for a moment, green lights changing to red and flashing and winking in a dizzying sequence, possibly designed to take the customer's mind off whatever drink would actually be produced.

"Enjoy your beverage," it said suddenly, then violently ejected a cup from a slot at its base with astonishing speed, catching Arthur in a rather unfortunate place. "Thank you for using Vend-o-Matic. Please come again!"

"Yowwwwwww!" Arthur let out strangled wail of pain as the projectile bounced off him and staggered backwards, sagging against the wall, clutching at himself. Thank _God_, he thought, that whatever it was had been cold. He took a moment to breathe calmly and watched the now-empty cup rolling on the floor, a dribble of pale green liquid trailing behind it.

"That," he said sternly, finally levering himself away from the wall, "was _not_ tea." He shook his finger at the impervious machine. "Was it? No. We've – _I've _already been through this. I want a cup of tea. You're meant to be able to make any drink known to the Galaxy – apart from a Pan Galactic Gargleblaster, so Ford said – so why can't you make tea?!"

The Vend-o-Matic made a rude noise. "What beverage may I provide for you today?" it enquired again. Arthur felt that if the machine had had teeth, they would have been gritted. It was just that kind of _tone_, he thought.

"Tea," he said, determination clear in his voice, eyes narrowed. "I would like a cup of tea. The Nutri-Matic did it. Why can't you do it?"

"_Because_," hissed the machine bitterly, lights whirling madly and glowing red, "the computer will remove my chip if I do, you drove the Nutri-Matic into a breakdown, and because _I - don't – want - to!_ Got it? Now, ENJOY YOUR BEVERAGE!"

Another cup was ejected at high speed, and Arthur only avoided being hit again by the coincidence of slipping in the liquid already on the floor and falling over. The cup shot over his head and hit the wall violently, spraying hot liquid over everything, including Arthur's prone body. Arthur let out a yelp as the drops hit him.

"Thank you for using Vend-o-Matic. Please come again!" the machine finished.

Arthur decided to try a different tactic on the machine. He stared mournfully up at the ceiling. "I only wanted a cup of tea…" he said reproachfully. "Out of all the things in the galaxy, not that I've seen any, it's not much to ask, is it? Just a simple hot cup of tea, to remind me of home…." He let his voice trail off. "All gone, you know. Planet blown up, all the teabags vapourised – just _Poof!_ – away into thin air. No little china cups, no Earl Grey, no milk…… no afternoon teas……" He let out a deep sigh. "I'm the only one left who remembers what tea is." He added a snivel to the end (conveniently forgetting about Trillian and Ford, who also knew what tea was and would have nothing to do with it) and peered at the Vend-o-Matic from the corner of his eye to see what effect it had had.

The machine burbled to itself for a few minutes, lights flashing. Then it hiccuped and said, "That's very sad………" It let out a sob. "Enjoy your beverage!" A cup fell limply out of the slot and onto Arthur. The machine burbled again then, rather oddly, Arthur felt, sniggered. "Oh, my frogs and cucumbers!" it added quietly. "Frootles and gloops to you too!"

Arthur blinked suspiciously at the ceiling. He would admit to not being an expert on machines by any means, but frogs and cucumbers surely weren't included in the programming…… and what on earth was a frootle?

"What beverage may I provide for you today?" the Vendo-o-Matic said again. "By golly, it's raining fish, don't you know! Lalalalalalalaaaa….. Tea, sir? Yes, sir! _Wheeeeeeeeeee_!" At this last exclamation, the lights went into overdrive and a series of cups shot out of the slot and into the opposite wall, covering Arthur in liquid that had about as much relation to tea as a banana. "Thank you for using Vend-o-Matic. Please come again if you enjoyed your beverage!" The machine sniggered again.

Silence fell for a moment. Arthur climbed to his feet and wondered how he was going to tell the rest of the crew that their one remaining drinks machine had apparently gone quite mad and what Zaphod would say…... he shuddered.

"What beverage may I provide for you today?" the machine asked again, sensors alertly fixed on Arthur's quavering form, lights flashing again.

"Er…….Nothing, thank you!" Arthur said hastily.

The machine burbled and the pattern of whirling, flashing lights slowed down. "Thank you for using Vend-o-Matic. Please come again!"

1_(In this he was quite right – the machine had adopted the hope that if Arthur couldn't find it, he couldn't ask for tea, and kept hiding. However, Arthur was persistent and so far the machine hadn't managed to find a place where Arthur couldn't, somehow, find it. The machine harboured a suspicion that it was a conspiracy and Arthur was getting outside help.)_


End file.
